Stay-at-home Mom, Housewife, Cinderella…whatever you want to call me…I’m growing weary of who I am, of all that I do and the constant reminder of what I don’t.
My father actually said to me once, “What is it you do all day?”
I sit on my ass and eat bon-bon’s all day, Dad. That’s what I do.
I just laughed and walked away…because when it comes to Frank, sometimes all you can do is laugh and walk away.
I ran into an old friend from high school at the store awhile back, we exchanged pleasantries and she filled me in on her college educated, kid-free, exciting life.
“So, what are you up to? Where do you work?”
The dreaded question.
I gave the same response I always give whenever anyone asks me what I’ve been up to or where I work: “I’m just doing the Mom thing. For now anyway.”
I wish that “doing the Mom thing” were as easy as it sounds. I always feel the need to add the “For now anyway.” Like I need people to know that I do intend to rejoin the workforce at some point in time. I sometimes feel guilty or less than because I don’t work.
“That’s……awesome. You must be bored to death though….”
That’s what she said. That I must be bored to death.
Yeah. I’m so bored sometimes I just sit and cry. It’s great because the kids have this auto-pilot switch that I flip and then they can just do everything on their own. They hardly need me for anything. I just sit back and relax all day. Paint my toenails. Watch the soaps. I’ve even got the little one calling the insurance company and making his big brother’s doctors appointments. It’s great.
That’s what I could have said. Instead I just laughed and said, “I wish.” Told her it was great to see her and walked away.
I’ve learned in life that sometimes you just have to walk away.
I could explain the AM rush of waking, washing, breakfasting, dressing, brushing, backpacking and bus stopping.
The piles of laundry that grow like mold. How there’s always more laundry, no matter how much laundry I do.
How someone’s always thirsty, hungry, cranky, coughy, sneezy, angry or some other form of uncomfortable or upset.
I could explain the afternoons of sweeping and lunches and snacks and meltdowns and putting shoes on and taking shoes off and time-outs and sweeping and meltdowns. And more sweeping. And more meltdowns.
I could explain all about the job I have, the work I do, but unless you’re doing it too, you wouldn’t understand.
This job where you’re on call 24/7. This job where there’s no breaks. No vacations. And no paycheck.
This job where so much is expected of me and I can’t ever be enough.
I need more hands. And arms and legs.
There’s always a want, a need, a nose, a mouth, a missing shoe or puzzle piece. A diaper or battery that needs changing.
I’m always out of milk or bread or patience or time.
Some times I collapse at the end of the day. Only to wake up and start all over again.
This job is never ending.
A friend said, “I don’t know how you do it.” The truth is, some days, I don’t either. Some days I want to run screaming from the house. Some days I want to tell my boss to take this job and shove it. And then I remember that I am the boss. And that I work with the two most amazing little people the world has ever known. Little people who I’m quite certain will grow up to change the world. They way they’ve changed me.
I complain, mostly to myself, about cooking and cleaning and laundry and crying kids…but the truth is: I love this job.
The truth is: It’s all I ever really wanted to do.
When I was 4 or 5 I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up. At 6 I decided I wanted to be a nun. (You can totally see me as a nun, right?) Sister Regina Angeline was a nun and a teacher and I figured she had the best of both worlds.
In 5th grade I fell in love with both Billy Smeltzer and Patrick Swayze and decided that being a nun was out.
Throughout school all I ever really thought about being when I grew up was a teacher. I was fortunate to have a lot of amazing teachers who inspired me to want do to their job just because they themselves were so awesome. I also had a few teachers who really sucked. And they inspired me to want to teach too. To be better then they were. To be the kind of teacher who’s remembered by their students long after they’ve left the classroom. The kind of teacher that teaches you about yourself.
I always pictured myself growing up to be a teacher, but I also always pictured myself growing up to be a Mom. There was never a time, not even as a teenager, that I didn’t want to have kids. I just always sort of knew I’d be a Mom.
And now I am. And there’s some days where it still blows my mind.
I am what I wanted to be when I grew up. How many people can say that? Not too many.
I’m not sure about being a teacher anymore. I want to be a writer. I want to design jewelry and hock it on QVC. I want to help people. To make a difference. I’m 28 years old and I’m not sure what I want to be now that I’m a Mom and “a grown up”. I’ll figure it all out soon enough, but for now, I’m just doing the Mom thing.
That’s my job. I don’t ever want to quit.